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And Shan has put the
craft up for sale, now that his point's been taken."
    He did not say, as one's mother would
assuredly have done, 'No doubt with his eye already upon some other
mad enterprise.'
    "You've seen Val Con, then?" This was
interesting; had the young cousin left the wiles of Festival to do
family duty?
    "Oh, aye, he was by this morning. We shared
a bite of breakfast and a catch-up." Luken sipped.
    Last seen, Val Con had been engaged to
attend a piece of business that must assuredly have kept him until
very late in the evening, if Pat Rin had read the set of the lady's
face a-right. To have arisen from the double exertions of the race
and the pleasure tents early enough to share breakfast with
dawn-rising Luken--well. Surely, the young cousin became a
paragon.
    "He's a good lad," Luken said comfortably.
"The Scouts agree with him, which was the same with his
father."
    "One's mother swears him the spit of her
brother."
    "Does she, now?" Luken paused, doubtless
considering the issue from all sides, and finally moved a hand in
negation. "I won't say there isn't an edge here and
there--especially upon an ascent to the boughs, you know--but I do
believe Er Thom has achieved other than a facsimile of Daav. No
disrespect meant to your mother, dear."
    Pat Rin smiled. "Certainly not."
    The service door opened at that juncture,
admitting their waiter, bearing deserts. By the time these were
accommodated, and the finishing wine poured, Luken had introduced
the subject of Pat Rin's current projects.
    He sighed. "Alas, I've been named an
instrument of Balance."
    Luken looked at him, glass arrested half-way
to his lips. "I wonder that you took the time to dine with me. You
could have set another day, boy-dear. Thirty-six hours is little
enough to right all the wrongs that might be made in a
lifetime."
    "Happily, I'm set to Balance the life of a
meticulous man," Pat Rin said. "There were only four outstanding
debts, and I've managed to lay three today." He inclined his head,
self-mocking. "Behold me, industrious."
    "I allow that to be tolerably industrious,"
Luken said, apparently quite serious. "Most likely you'll stop on
your way home this evening and put paid to the last."
    "Would that I were that fortunate. The
fourth is likely to be the end of my own melant'i, if you will have
it."
    "As knotty as that?" Luken put his glass
aside. "You might honorably consult an elder of your Clan. I happen
to be an elder of your Clan, in case you had forgot it."
    "Yes, very likely. In the meanwhile, I've no
idea how knotty the thing may be, the notation being somewhat ...
murky. You might say I should simply throw myself upon the honor of
the debt-partner, which I might do, had I one idea of who she may
be."
    "Surely you've checked the Book of
Clans--ah!" Luken caught himself up. "Perhaps the lady is Terran,
boy-dear. You'll want the Census."
    "The lady's name appears to be Liaden," Pat
Rin said, "though I do have a request in to Terran Census, so every
wager is covered." He pulled Fal Den's debt book from his sleeve
pocket and flipped to the page.
    "Betea sen'Equa is the person for whom--" He
glanced up at a slight sound from Luken, who seemed to have lost
color. "Father?"
    "For whom do you Balance?" Luken asked, and
his tone was much cooler than Pat Rin was wont to hear from his
foster father.
    "For Fal Den ter'Antod, Clan Imtal, found
dead by his own hand last evening. The book arrived in this
morning's mail."
    "Hah." Luken relaxed visibly. "I had read
that. Bad business. And he notes a Balance with sen'Equa? Boy-dear,
I must ask if you are certain of the notation."
    Wordlessly, Pat Rin handed him the
debt-book.
    For several heartbeats, Luken frowned down
at the note, then sighed, closed the book and handed it back.
    "Betea sen'Equa, certain enough, though how
one of Imtal came to--there, it's none of mine. And distressed I am
to find it one of yours, lad."
    "I apprehend that you are familiar with the
lady--or at the least, the lady's